On Blue's waters

My father, Smoothbone, made colored inks as well. There is no reason we should not have them, too. It is clearly just a matter of finding the right colored powders to put in instead of soot. I have a bright young man looking into that. My clerks say that they have never seen colored inks in our market here, or in this big pink and blue house we call my palace for that matter. I imagine they would trade very well-which means, I suppose, that I am starting to think like Marrow. Since our positions are somewhat similar, that is not surprising.

Here I am tempted to write about the market in New Viron, and compare it, perhaps, to the one here; but I will save that for some other opening of the pen case.

Now back to the sloop.

There was a tiny inlet on the southeast side of Mucor’s Rock that gave excellent shelter. I tied up there and climbed the steep path to the top carrying a side of bacon and a sack of cornmeal. She did not recognize me, as far as I could judge. To set down the truth, I did not know her either until I looked into her eyes, the same dead, dull eyes that I recalled. The witch had been described to me as being very thin. She was, but not as thin as she had been in the Caldé’s Palace and on the lander afterward-not as thin as the truly skeletal young woman I recalled.

She was said to be tall, too. The truth is that she is not, although her thinness and erect carriage, and her short, ragged skirt, combine to make her appear so.

The Mucor I had known would never have spoken to me first. This one whom I had heard called the witch and the sorceress did, but seemed at first to be recalling an almost forgotten language as she licked her cracked lips. “What… Do… You… Want…?”

I said, “I must speak with you, Mucor.” I showed her the bacon, then patted the sack of cornmeal I was carrying on my shoulder “I brought you these, thinking you might need them. I hope you like them.”

Without another word, she turned and went into the hut, which was larger than I had expected. When I saw that its rough door remained open, I followed her.

The only light came through the open doorway and a god-gate in the middle of the conical roof. For half a minute, perhaps, I stood just inside the door, blinking. A motionless figure in black sat with its back to me, facing the ashes of a small fire that had burned itself out in a circle of blackened stones some time before. Its aged hands clasped a long peeled stick of some light-colored wood. Mucor stood beside it, one hand upon its shoulder, regarding me silently. Beyond them, on the other side of the circle of stones, something stirred; in that near darkness, I heard rather than saw it.

Pointing at the figure in black, I asked, “Is that Maytera Marble?” and her head pivoted until it seemed to regard a place somewhat to my left. The metal face thus revealed was the smooth oval that I recalled so well, yet it appeared somehow misshapen, as if it were diseased.

After a pause that I considered much too long, Mucor said, “This is my grandmother. She knows the future.”

I put down my sack and laid the bacon on it. “Then she should be able to tell me a great many things I want to know. First I have a question for you, however. Do you know who I am?”

“Horn.”

“Yes, I am. Do you remember Nettle?”

Mucor only stared.

“Nettle and I used to bring you your food sometimes when you lived in the Caldé’s Palace.” She did not reply, so I added, “Silk’s palace.”

Maytera Marble whispered, “Horn? Horn?”

“Yes,” I said, and went to her and knelt before her. “It’s me, Maytera.”

“You’re a good, good boy to come to see us, Horn.”

“Thank you.” I found it hard to speak, impossible when I looked at her. “Thank you, Maytera. Maytera, I said I used to take your granddaughter’s food up for you. I want you to know that I’ve brought her some now. It’s only bacon and a sack of cornmeal, but there’s more food on my boat. She can have anything there she wants. Or that you want for her. What about apples? I have a barrel of them, good ones.”

Slowly her metal head bobbed up and down. “The apples. Bring us three apples.”

“I’ll be right back,” I told her.

Mucor’s hand scarcely moved, but it brought me to a halt as I went through the doorway. “You will eat with us?”

“Certainly,” I said, “if you can spare the food.”

“There is a flat rock. Down there. You stepped on it.”

At first I supposed that she intended one of the flat stones that made up the floor of their hut; then I recalled the stone she meant and nodded. “When I tied up the sloop. Is that the one?”

“There will be fish on it. Bring them up, too.”

I told her that I would be happy to, and discovered that it was easy as well as pleasant to step out of that hut and into the sunlight.